


Grenade

by HisMissHarley13



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisMissHarley13/pseuds/HisMissHarley13
Summary: Requested with prompts "Please, shut up.  Just shut up." "this is going to hurt" and "you’re holding back"





	Grenade

Chibs groaned and stretched as he woke, instantly knowing that something was not quite right when you didn’t automatically nestle into his side.  He jerked upright and frowned when he realised you weren’t in bed next to him.  Maybe you were just getting a drink, he reasoned with himself.

When you didn’t appear after ten minutes, he got to his feet and headed downstairs.

“Oh shite!” he cursed as he saw the smashed glass on the floor.  His eyes raced around the room and his stomach dropped as he saw the door swing open in the breeze.  You were gone.

—-

The zip tie cut cruelly into your wrists as they were bound in front of you.  You were bundled roughly into the back of a large car.

You tried screaming for help, earning you a back-handed slap.

“That is not going to help you.  You are going to give Filip a message,” 

You shook your head, kicking and screaming as a rag was stuffed into your mouth.  A vice grip of cold fingers took hold of your jaw and shook your head threateningly,

“ **Please, shut up.  Just shut up.**   It’s not going to do you a bit of good,” the Irishman said calmly.  You sank back into the seat, crying silent tears.

—-

“…Aye.” Chibs snapped his phone shut and paced up and down the hallway for a few moments before heading out front to wait for the club.  He leant against a tree and sunk down to the floor in despair.

Tig was the first to show, dismounting his bike and clapping a hand on Chibs’s shoulder,

“Take it easy, brother.  We’ll get her back,”

Jax and Opie arrived, followed by Bobby, Juice and Clay.

“What happened?” Clay asked as he removed his helmet with struggling fingers.

“Had tae be the Irish,” Chibs spat, “I contact Fi and Kerriann an’ my wife disappears?  Cannae be anyone else,”

“Let me call him,” Clay offered, taking out his cell and walking back towards his bike.  Chibs let out a yell of frustration before marching back into the house to retrieve his cut and keys.  Pulling on the leather, he swung the door shut and climbed on his bike,

“I cannae wait here,” he revved the engine of his Harley impatiently.  Jax’s phone began to ring and he held up a finger for Chibs to wait,

“Is she OK? She what? Shit! OK, we’ll be right there,”

Jax snapped his cell shut and barked a single instruction,

“Back to the club, now!”

“Jackie-boy, is ma girl OK?” Chibs demanded.

“Let’s just get there,” he responded grimly.

—–

Jimmy O’Fallan smiled at you amicably as you attempted to struggle free.  A sickening ‘pop’ stilled you with a yelp as your shoulder dislocated. You cried out when your arms were dragged forwards to allow Jimmy to place a grenade in your hands, clamping them roughly against the lever.  He winked at you as he wrapped your hands in tape to secure them, a rosary wound round beneath the top layer.  He removed the rag from your mouth with a delicate finger and thumb.

“What’s all this about?” you whimpered.

“You are going to give your husband a message,” Jimmy advised.  You nodded your agreement quickly.

“You’re going to tell him to leave off trying to contact Fiona and Kerriann.  Those girls are mine.  Tell him if he continues, the same thing will happen to you as happened to them. Got it?”

You nodded again, mute with fear.

The car screeched to a stop and Jimmy leant forward to kiss you on the cheek.  As he leant back, he puled the pin from the grenade and flung the car door open, shoving you roughly.  You fell face-first into the dirt as the car sped away.

You struggled awkwardly to your feet, a nauseating wave of pain flooded through you as your shoulder was jarred.  You blinked through tears and made out the illuminated sign of Teller Morrow Autos.

Chucky had been disturbed by the sound of the car and shuffled out to investigate.  He hurried over to you and made a call,

“Jax, it’s Chucky. Mrs Telford is here…she looks bad…she’s got her hands all tied up,” he nodded as he ended the call.

Chucky smiled at you gently and patted your shoulder, recoiling in horror as you yelped.

“S’ok Chuck,” you hissed through gritted teeth, “Can you please call Chibs?”

“Jax is coming,” he nodded, cursing as he fumbled his cellphone and dropped it.

“OK, Chucky no.  Just leave it.  Go and wait in the club or something,” 

You were suddenly nervous for his life as you realised you were literally holding a bomb that could easily explode at any minute.  He made to reach for you and you shied away,

“Chucky, please,”

You backed to the furthest point you could and crouched down in a ball.

—-

Chibs, if he was asked afterwards, would not have been able to explain how he made the trip back to Teller Morrow that night.  All he could concentrate on was getting back to his wife and making sure she was unharmed.

As the convoy of bikes roared into the lot, Chucky danced forward nervously.  Chibs rounded on him as he dismounted,

“Where is she?” he demanded.  Chucky trembled under the intense stare of the Scotsman,

“F-far corner,” he pointed.

Chibs whirled around and immediately softened when he made out your form, hunkered in the corner.  As he started towards you, you screamed,

“No! Don’t come any closer!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me.  It’s Filip,” 

“No, Filip, please,” you wailed.  Chibs agonized over your distress,

“Tell me, what’s wrong?” he pleaded.

“They’ve-I-I-There’s a grenade,” you took a deep breath to still the sobs, it was important that they understood the danger.

“Where is it princess?”

“It’s taped in my hands,” you lifted them painfully to show him, shrieking as the others started to gather round, “NO! All of you, please, stay back!”

“Darlin, we got this,” Jax approached regardless, “trust me, we ain’t gonna let anything hurt you,”

“It’s not me I’m concerned about,”

“Sweetheart,” Chibs edged closer, sinking to his knees and reaching a hand to your cheek, “who did this to ye?”

“It was Jimmy O’Fallan.  He wanted me to give you a message  He wants you to stop chasing Fi and Kerriann.  He said if you don’t, the same thing will happen to me.  What did he mean?”

“That BASTARD!” he yelled, a murderous look on his face.  He grabbed your arms to pull you into him, causing you to shout out.  A frown creased his forehead until you explained,

“I think my shoulder is dislocated,” Chibs’s eyes flashed.  He reached slowly towards you,

“Awright, let’s take a look,” he held your forearms gently and nodded to Opie.

“What do you need, brother?” Opie gestured for you to show him.  He looked over his shoulder at Tig and motioned for him to come closer,

“Tig, you got that flick-knife man?”  he nodded silently and handed Chibs the blade.  “Jax, keep her body still?” Jax sat himself behind you, pressing his chest to your back and holding you with a firm but gentle grip, his legs either side of you.

Opie’s large hands were wrapped around yours and he kept your hands still whilst Chibs worked to remove the tape, layer by layer, until Opie’s grip was the only thing preventing yours from slipping.  He carefully checked the grenade and called back to the others,

“Gonna need some wire or somethin’ to fix this,”

Juice headed over to the garage, jogging back with a hand full of various pieces of metal,

“I wasn’t sure what was best,” he shrugged.  Opie selected a spring from Juice’s outstretched palm and twisted it into the pin-hole.  Once secured, he eased the grenade out of your hands and you wilted against Jax, who wrapped his arms around you in relief and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

Chibs brushed a strand of hair from your face lovingly,

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s sort that shoulder out, eh?”

Jax stood carefully from behind you and lifted you to your feet.  Chibs nodded his thanks to him and they walked you over to the club house.  Tig was already inside and handed you the bottle of Scotch.  You took a large swig from the bottle and Chibs followed suit.  He glanced apologetically,

“Ain’t gonna lie to ye pet, **this is going to hurt** ,”

You nodded grimly, taking another slug of the whiskey and concentrating on the heat of the liquor rolling down your throat.  Chibs’s rough hands caressed the skin of your arm before encircling your bicep.  You relaxed your body as best you could, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

You grunted as he pulled and twisted sharply, manoeuvring the joint back into place, determined not to show any more pain than you could help.

“Well done lass,” he crooned, enveloping you in his arms and crushing you softly into his chest.  You breathed in the musky scent of your old man, it doing more to relieve you than anything else.

“Let’s go to bed,” you mumbled against him.

“Aye, we’ll stay here the night, eh?”

You nodded, pulling back and taking his hand.  You led him towards the dorms without another word.  As he closed the door behind him, he dragged you in for a kiss, filled with longing.  You pulled back and caught his eye with a determined expression,

“Love me, Filip,” you demanded, “every piece.  Love all of me tonight, and if I think  **you’re holding back** …” you trailed off with a raised eyebrow,

Chibs grinned, “Well, if you insist…”


End file.
